Alan's Clock
by BeckyS
Summary: Alan Eppes contemplates his biological clock. A challenge story, given the first line.


_**ALAN'S CLOCK**  
By BeckyS  
April 2006 _

The Eppes family and the characters and situations from the TV show "NUMB3RS" are the property of the Scotts and the creation of Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made. With grateful thanks to all of the creative minds behind the show, and to Tel for the plot bunny.

* * *

I didn't think men had biological clocks, but mine is certainly ticking. Maybe it was my wife dying that kicked it into high gear.

I remember when the boys started high school – together, you know. They had so much to deal with. Heck, we all do when we hit freshman year; I remember it all too well. The confusion you feel that first day trying to find your classes by yourself, the hustle and bustle of all those kids racing through the hallways, the exhilaration of knowing you've made it because you're in "High School."

Donnie had hormones to deal with, too, and Charlie had a lot of unusual stresses because he was so young. Both of them tried to grow up so fast, and suddenly I didn't have my little boys any more. They found new heroes.

As is right and appropriate, I know that. You have to grow up some time. But I sure missed those little ones. I missed how they looked at me like I could do anything, fix anything. I missed that look of wonder on their little round faces when I explained something to them or showed them something new, even if it was just cotton candy or the joy of riding a bike without the training wheels.

"I did it myself!" they'd cry out as they ran to me for a big hug. A great moment in their life that was made perfect because their daddy was there to see it and pick them up and swing them around for the joy of it. They'd shriek with laughter and happiness.

I was so proud of them both when they graduated from high school, and then from college. When Don came home for the first time with his new FBI badge – so shiny, so surprisingly heavy – and showed it to me with the same pride shining from his face that he'd worn when he hit his first home run when he was eight years old, well, my heart nearly burst with happiness. He gave me one of those hugs that are so rare and precious now, but that he used to give me every day when he was young. I miss my little Donnie.

And Charlie – of course I was glad to see my wife when they finally came home from Princeton for the last time – but Charlie nearly glowed with the love he felt for his math. So much passion, so much life. The hug he gave me is one I treasure in my memories because it said so much. That he was grateful I'd let him go. That he knew how hard it had been on me to be separated from him and especially from his mother. That because of my sacrifices he was ready to take on the world. He tried to make it all up to me with that hug, and yeah, he succeeded. But I miss those little hugs he would give me every day when he was young – the ones he gave me just because. I miss my little Charlie.

I thought sometimes of talking to Margaret about having more children so I could have more of those little trusting faces running to me at the end of a long day. I knew, though, that we couldn't. We had all we could handle with helping Charlie keep his balance and making sure Don got the attention he needed. And I'm still not sure how well we really succeeded with either. They've both grown up into fine young men, though, so I guess we did.

All the work I did trying to make this city as livable as possible for everyone, all the work I do at the shelter – I know it makes a difference for a lot of people, but when it comes down to it, you have your children. Your legacy. Your gift to the world, if you want to say it that way.

Don, I think he's beginning to understand. I saw it when he was working with that boy whose mother was murdered. When he talked to Daniel about being partners, when he saw the trust that boy had in him, yeah, I think he got it. I could see it pulling at his heart. Maybe now that he has David and Colby doing more of the field work, maybe now he'll set some of his fears aside.

No man wants to think about having a family and then getting into something where he'll end up leaving them alone. But what Don doesn't realize yet is that there's a woman out there somewhere who would rather have him for as long as she can, than not have him at all. She'd rather take the risk of raising their children alone than never bring those children to life. She'll want to take care of him, keep him happy, keep him sane so that he can go out into his dangerous world better equipped to keep himself safe. He'll have a better chance of surviving his job with her at his side than he does alone.

And his children will make him more careful and will make him live more fully because he'll always know that his life is precious and that he has to come home to them. He'll realize that having those little bodies hurtle into his arms every time he steps out of the car is worth all the worry.

Charlie? Well, I think it'll be a while before Charlie is consciously ready to have kids. His mind is incredibly sharp right now, and he knows he could start to lose that edge soon. He wants to get a lot of groundwork done on some projects before it happens.

When it does, I think his children will save him. He'll come to understand that as important as his work is to the world, his children don't care if he isn't winning all those prizes any more. His children won't care if he doesn't publish as often. His children will love him because he's their daddy. And he will know that they are his legacy – his truly important legacy.

And when my sons have their children, I'll have little ones around me again. I'll make peanut butter and jam sandwiches and cut them into triangles and stars, I'll pull little curly-headed kids out of the koi pond and dry them off, and I'll take them to ball games and the zoo and the library. I'll clean up skinned knees, I'll braid ribbons into the little girls' hair, I'll share my favorite books with them, and I'll tell them stories about their daddies and their grandma. But most of all, I'll give them as many hugs as they want, any time they want.

My biological clock is ticking. I want grandchildren.

* * *


End file.
